


Indelible

by doc_boredom



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, I HAVE NEVER GOTTEN A TATTOO im SORRY if this is INACCURATE, Magical Tattoos, and we do too i guess, in which sung loves space and space loves sung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doc_boredom/pseuds/doc_boredom
Summary: For the first time in his life, Doctor Sung hadn’t made a spur of the moment decision when it had come to the idea. No… It had been a growing desire that had first taken root some time ago, coming to him in bits and pieces over the span of several strange and hazy dreams. Space itself etched into his skin, a constant companion.-A little drabble written for liife-party on tumblr for their new Sung FC because Seb's my big fave





	Indelible

The first touch of the needle is a strange sting upon his skin.

He sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth before sinking them into his lower lip.  _ Don’t move, Sung _ . His toes curl involuntarily inside of his shoes and he closes his right eye against the indescribable pain.

It’s not awful but it’s  _ constant _ . Pin after pin being pressed into his skin, the artist pausing only to wipe the small spots of blood that well to the surface in response to his incessant stabbing. “Is that normal?” He finally says, breaking the silence that’s settled over them since the moment he had sat down and the artist had posed their gun.

The tattoo artist is a strange thing even for space. Too many eyes to count, all focused on the swell of his shoulder and the muscles there, their head smooth and limbs spindled as they hunch over him with a quiet intensity. They click low in their throat in response, bringing the tattoo gun to his skin once more. “Decently.” They finally say, their voice guttural as they spew the Universal back at him. “Not the first, not the last.”

“Encouraging.” Sung says back in a dry, unamused voice. Too many of those eyes roll in his direction before they’re focusing back on the image that’s beginning to take shape upon his flesh.

For the first time in his life, Doctor Sung hadn’t made a spur of the moment decision when it had come to the idea. No… It had been a growing desire that had first taken root some time ago, coming to him in bits and pieces over the span of several strange and hazy dreams. Space itself etched into his skin, a constant companion- as it had always been for years and years now. But it wasn’t  _ just _  the inky black of space and the stars it held. No, it had been  _ alive _  in his dreams, constantly shifting and changing alongside him.

So he had gone looking for someone to make it a reality. It hadn’t only been a struggle to find an artist to properly illustrate the idea, but the materials that were required to make it a reality. They existed, sure enough. Finely ground meteorite, the heart of a comet, quicksilver mercury in its purest form. It had taken two months, all done on his own. He hadn’t even told Havve, slipping out from under his all seeing eyes, wanting to do this all on his own. “The blood is good.” They whisper, a quiet and reverent thing. “It knows you now.”

The tattoo, they mean, a near sentient being in its own right. Sung can feel a slipping sensation of sorts across his shoulder and it causes a shudder to run down his spine in response. It was  _ only _  supposed to be a reflection, nothing more, and yet something deep within Sung  _ knew _  it wasn’t just that. It was his and he was it’s own. It was  _ that _  simple. Space had cradled him in his earlier years when boredom itself had laid waste to everything he knew and loved. Held him, protected him, kept him safe until it saw him fit to be released to the universe once more.

Something zips across his skin and he turns just in time to see the tail of a meteor streaking across his bicep, disappearing into the blue black that is now upon the rest of his arm.  _ Make a wish _ , he almost laughs, managing to stuff it down deep inside of him. The needle pierces his skin again and it doesn’t hurt as much. No, he can’t help but think, it’s almost kind of  _ comforting  _ in a sense. Over and over again, the ink blossoming across his arm, the stars winking back at him as the masterpiece finally,  _ finally _ , begins to come to life.


End file.
